XCOM: Ultima Ratio Regum Vulgi
by jake111
Summary: The Earth once again faces it's greatest foe. The wolves are at the gate and conventional forces are getting slaughtered. Lieutenant Colonel Knight has been called to take command of the XCOM initiative, there can be no negotiation, there can be no surrender. Humanity is left with only one option, the last argument of kings and common men.
1. Down the Rabbit Hole

They arrived at the airfield early in the morning, because this was the Army and everything was done early. They did a few refresher courses and on went the T-11 parachute, a colleague checked the straps and made sure that they were properly chest crushing and that the leg straps were appropriately uncomfortable. Then on went the reserve and the rucksack. The jumpmaster inspected each of them, grabbing adjusting straps and raising the voices of several colleagues by a few octaves. They hurried their way through that, then they sat down and waited for a while, because this was the Army. The jumpmaster paid extra attention when he got to her, pulling her straps even tighter despite the fact that they were already done right, either because he had a thing against women or because he had a thing against officers. The latter was most likely.

Then they got their orders and they lumbered into a plane and sat down on the canvas seats, and they waited a little bit longer. Because this was the Air Force teaching the Army how to wait. Then the plane took off and the jostling, which most of them were convinced was part of the aircraft's design, was painful enough to give them proper incentive to jump out of this perfectly good airplane. You might not want to jump, but you damn well wanted out.

"Twenty minutes," the jumpmaster yelled, giving them their time warning, after they'd been in the air for a while.

"Yes sir," they all responded in unison, as they'd been trained to.

A while later the jumpmaster called out again, "ten minutes."

"Yes sir," came their legion reply.

Finally the jump master called out, "Get ready, outboard personnel, stand up." The outboard personnel stood up. "Inboard personnel, stand up." She stood up with inboard personnel. They hooked up their static lines. Then came the little voice in her head that had said the same thing on every time she'd done this. _Hey, guess what, I'm probably gonna jump._ _There is no way to get out of this at this point._ They went through the additional checks, then they opened the door. It was a nice day, so the sudden rush of air felt really nice. The jumpmaster checked the door and the green light came on.

"Go," the jumpmaster called. The first guy went out the door and the line started lumbering forward. Then it was her turn, she always considered the term static line jump to be a misnomer. You didn't jump, you fell. One second she was in the plane, the next she was caught in the slipstream. She locked her body in as tightly as she could, head to chest, arms extended over her reserve chute. She had no idea why she was supposed to do this or whether it made any difference, but it was the way that an airborne sergeant had taught her to do it twelve years ago and she wasn't going to test it.

Then she felt the opening shock of her parachute and mentally sighed with relief. It hadn't happened yet, but a part of her always worried that her chute wouldn't open on one of these jumps. Her canopy opened above her and she looked around, taking stock of her fellow jumpers. Then she looked down and began mentally bracing herself for the inevitable, she was going to hit the ground. And despite the fact that the Army taught trainees that you could steer, it was more honest to just say that you were getting delivered. She lowered her rucksack below her with her lowering line.

Out of habit, she mentally went through the five point landing technique in her head. The official technique was simple, toes, then calves, then thighs, then buttocks, then the pull-up muscles. In her entire career with the military, she had never managed to do that. She landed more like a cantaloupe dropped from the roof of an apartment building. But still she'd landed and she was conscious, she always called that a win.

She popped her canopy release, then she took a quick self-inventory. Legs, not broken, arms, not broken, ribs, not broken, no concussions or skull fractures. _Alright, I'm functional,_ she thought as she shook her head. Then she asked herself the eternal question, _why didn't I stay in med school?_ Then she pulled out her SCAR and picked up her gear, just like every other paratrooper on the field, just like they'd been trained to do.

"Colonel Knight!"

She immediately turned to see the source of the yell, a young second lieutenant in army greens running across the field to her. As he drew near, he immediately stopped and snapped to attention, saluting her.

"At ease Lieutenant, what's going on?" She asked, removing her helmet and exposing her bun of crimson hair.

The lieutenant dropped into a parade rest, "Ma'am, there are some men who need to speak to you. They won't say what it's about or who they're with, but their clearance checks out."

 _Freaking cloak and dagger bullshit, if this is just part of a senate inquiry or something, I'm going to hurt someone._ "Who cleared them?"

The lieutenant looked even more nervous than he already had, "the Secretary of Defense, ma'am."

That got her attention, "Best not to keep them waiting then."

She followed the lieutenant away from the drop zone over to a waiting jeep. The drive to the headquarters building was fairly quick, out front were the two men that she assumed she was supposed to meet. They had the look about them, black suits, black sunglasses, and they were standing in front of a black SUV. Definitely government rather than military, probably CIA or NSA or one of the black agencies that no one was allowed to know about.

One of the men in black approached them as the jeep pulled up. "Lieutenant Colonel Knight, we need you to come with us."

She stepped off of the jeep, "Alright, but first how about you boys tell me who you are and where we're going?"

The MIB's face stayed expressionless, "Everything will be explained when we get there ma'am, please leave your weapon and excess equipment with the lieutenant. I don't mean to hurry you but we're operating on a tight time table here."

 _Of course we are,_ she shook her head while she passed her SCAR and her harness to the lieutenant. "You guys would tell me if you were black ops, right?"

Both men were silent, their faces betraying nothing.

She almost laughed, "Thought not."

"If we're on such a tight schedule, then we'd best get moving." She said as she climbed into the back of the SUV. Instead of the main gate or the airfield, they headed for a secluded helipad in an isolated corner of the base. As they arrived, what appeared to be a cross between an Osprey and an F-35 touched down on the pad. _Holy shit,_ she thought, _that's a Skyranger, those things are still in the experimental phase. They aren't supposed to see action for another five years._

"This will take you to the base," MIB 2 said, passing her a duffel bag. She took a quick look inside and saw the contents of her medicine cabinet and a few days' worth of clothes from her quarters.

"You broke into my quarters. Good to know that you guys still have that stellar sense of personal boundaries you're so famous for." The two MIBs just stared back at her, expressionless. "And that great sense of humor. So where is this base that you're sending me too? And did you at least feed my dog?"

MIB 1 spoke again, "Everything has been handled. You will be briefed when you reach the base."

 _These guys aren't going to give me anything,_ she sighed. "Well thanks for the ride, always nice to spend time with guys dressed for a funeral with faces even an eidetic forgets in five minutes."

They just kept staring at her as she climbed out of the SUV and headed for the Skyranger. She walked up the ramp into the cargo bay with her helmet in one hand and her duffel in the other and found a seat. She took a good look around while she strapped herself in. There were six seats that were actual seats rather than the canvas netting that was in the plane she'd just jumped from, making them quite comfortable by military standards. A large screen connected to what looked like an adjustable arm was flat against the ceiling near the front of the bay, presumably it could swing down for in-flight briefings. And near the rear of the plane, just above the door, was plainly a small camera, most likely to let the pilot keep an eye on the cargo bay.

Once she was firmly strapped in and her gear was tucked away, the door closed and the jet engines kicked in. The lift off was surprisingly smooth, with just a slight jolt when the jets in the rear kicked in. She'd grown used to long plane rides with no known destination over her career, so she knew the best way to pass the time. After a moment's rummaging in the duffel, she found what she was looking for. She dry swallowed an Ambien, leaned her head back against the wall of the Skyranger, and she was out like a light.

It felt like less than a minute later that a hand was on her shoulder shaking her awake, "ma'am, you really need to wake up."

She blinked away the blurriness and saw a man in a jumpsuit and a fighter helmet in front of her. She tried to shake herself into full consciousness, but the sleep was really clinging to her. "Ugh, how long was I out?"

"About three hours ma'am, the autopilot is bringing us down into the base now. We've got a team being deployed immediately after I drop you off." His voice came out of the helmet sounding muffled and robotic.

 _Shit, Ambien is supposed to knock you out for at least five or six. I didn't figure the flight would be this quick._ She groggily forced herself to undo the straps and grab her helmet and duffel. _This is getting off to a great start._ "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem ma'am, Big Sky, at your service." Then he clambered his way to the front of the airplane, presumably back to the pilot's seat.

The slight jolt of touch down caused her to grab onto the nearest handhold, then the ramp lowered and she stumbled forward. She didn't have time to get the lay of the land before a young man in a green commando sweater stepped up to her, saluting her, handing her a cup of coffee and taking her duffel and helmet. "Hello ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you. You're needed in the situation room, the council needs to speak with you."

"Alright," she allowed the young man to guide her towards a door. She took a drink of the coffee and realized two things. The first realization came after her first sip, _no way in hell are these guys standard military or government, this coffee is way too good._ The second came when she realized what flavor it was, _and they know my favorite kind of coffee. Yep they've had me under surveillance._

The caffeine helped her get her mind out of the Ambien fog. "Which council? UN? National Security?"

The young man, who she was going to assume was someone's aide, maintained the party line. "It's above my paygrade ma'am, it will all be explained during the briefing. As they drew near, the door suddenly opened and they stepped out of the way as a squad of soldiers charged out. Three men and one woman, all decked out in full tactical kit, carrying assault rifles. She assumed that was the squad that the one that the pilot had mentioned.

Looking at the squad made her notice the true scale of the hangar. It was massive, the Skyranger sat in the center while dozens of support personnel darted to and fro. It was clearly built into a mountain, and on the upper floors were smaller sections containing what looked like advanced fighter aircraft. Whoever these guys were, they had top level connections with the DOD, access to advanced combat materiel, a dedicated air component, extreme logistical support, and at least one squad's worth of an operations force. They were definitely serious.

She was led through a maze of tunnels and corridors to a conference room with a map of the world on the wall. The aide politely excused himself, snapping to a salute, then disappearing through the door, leaving her alone. She took a long drink of the coffee, still fighting off the effects of the Ambien. She was expecting anywhere between an eight and a twelve hour flight, and she was really regretting taking the sleeping medication now. And she knew that she would really pay for mixing sleeping meds with caffeine later, but she needed to be alert now.

The map screen on the wall changed, briefly showing the seal of an organization she was unfamiliar with. _Vigilo Confido, I am watchful, I am relied upon,_ her mind automatically translated the motto on the seal. Then the screen changed again, this time showing a man veiled in darkness. His features were hidden by the extremely bright light behind him. "Hello Colonel Knight, I apologize for the abrupt nature of your summons, but circumstances have forced certain plans to be expedited."

She set the coffee on the conference table and adopted a parade rest stance. "No need to apologize sir, but if you don't mind, I would like to know who exactly I'm working for and what exactly is expected of me."

"You have been selected to serve as commander of the XCOM project, a program activated in light of recent extreme events. You will serve under the directive of this council of nations. If you feel it is morally necessary, I can arrange for the proper authorizations to be presented to you to show that you will be acting with the approval of the United States government." It really annoyed her that she couldn't see his face.

"That won't be necessary sir. But I must point out that I'm only a lieutenant colonel, I'm not qualified to take command of an organization of this size." She refused the authorizations because she already got the sense that this was the kind of organization where paper trails were to be avoided whenever possible. Nothing that she hadn't dealt with before. But her rank should have disqualified her from a command like this.

"Your previous performance has proven otherwise. Colonel, you are needed, you will be overseeing our first and last line of defense. Your actions will have a significant impact on the future of this planet." _This guy is really laying it on thick_ , she thought. _This is either really important, or this guy is bullshitting like a pro._

A multinational covert task force dealing with extreme threats. _God, this is something out of a video game,_ she thought. _Then again, that describes most of my adult life._ The idea certainly held an appeal to her, and it didn't exactly seem like something that she was allowed to back out of. All things being equal, it wasn't much of a choice. Though she was curious as to what previous performance he was referring to. She'd had an abnormally interesting career in the past twelve years, and she'd made a few powerful friends and a far larger amount of enemies. "Alright sir, I accept."

The shadow figure nodded, what little body language she could read off of him told her that she was telling him something he already knew. "Good luck Commander, we will be watching." Then the screen switched back to the map.

"Great, thanks," she sighed and picked up the coffee again. "It's not like I had any other questions or anything."

"Commander."

She turned around to see the source of the familiar voice. "Bradford, they tapped you for this XCOM thing too, huh?"

The last time she'd seen Bradford, he was leading a team of Deltas on an operation in Bolivia. He had a good ten years on her, both in age and military experience. He'd been in Task Force 121, then in its successor Task Force 6-26, and eventually its final iteration as Task Force 88. He'd been on the operations that killed Uday and Qusay Hussein, Abu Zarquawi, and he'd been there for the capture of Saddam as part of Iraqi Freedom. He was a bit of a legend in the special operations community.

"Yes ma'am." The consummate professional he was, Bradford snapped into a salute. "Central Tactical Officer, at your service."

"Drop the rank bullshit Saber," She said, using his old call sign. "You're ten years older than me, you've seen me without pants on, and up until two minutes ago, you outranked me."

Bradford grinned, adopting a more relaxed stance. "Good to see you haven't changed Prodigy. I had almost forgotten about Baghdad, I was almost starting to regain some respect for you."

"Bullshit," She said laughing, "You don't forget something like that. And you better respect me, I still have the photos from that weekend liberty in Amsterdam." She downed the rest of the coffee and her expression turned serious. "So what exactly is going on? The council guy said circumstances had forced them to expedite my recruitment, and a squad was rushing out as I was being dropped off. Sounds like we're in crisis mode."

Bradford's expression turned grim. He picked up a tablet and tapped it a few times. The map screen changed once again, this time showing an overhead of a city street. "At 1900 hours Zulu, a number of unknown objects fell to Earth." Another tap, certain oddly shaped objects were highlighted in the picture.

"One of those things finally hit a populated area, that shouldn't be surprising, but it is." Tracked objects falling to earth averaged about one per day, it was honestly a miracle that this hadn't happened sooner. Though as she studied the screen, she noticed something, they looked oddly uniform. A crashed satellite should look fragmented, broken apart by the fall and the crash. These looked incredibly intact, and they looked less like pieces of something and more like individual entities. Besides that, she knew that this couldn't just be a crashed satellite. That warranted disaster relief forces, medics, police, fire departments, but there was no reason to deploy an armed special operations force for just a satellite.

"What are we dealing with here? Is there something on the ACS? Was there nuclear material that could have survived the crash on board? Please tell me no one tried to put a weapons system on board? What city did they hit?" _That should have been the first question I asked,_ she thought.

"Berlin, and we're fairly certain that this wasn't a satellite, or any other form of space junk that we know of. We don't think it was man made." Bradford spoke slowly, as if he was choosing his words as carefully as he could. She liked to think she and Bradford were fairly close friends, so she knew that it took a lot to make this man uncomfortable. _If it fell to earth, and it wasn't a man made, that only leaves… shit._

"John," she said slowly, looking him directly in the eyes, "Are we dealing with the X Files here, or should I be calling my pastor right now?"

He took a deep breath before speaking again. "The former, though the latter is probably a good idea too. But yes, we're currently operating under the belief that these objects are extraterrestrial in nature."

She looked down at the coffee cup in her hand, suddenly wondering if she was still passed out on the Skyranger and this was all an Ambien induced dream. "Alright," she said with a sigh, "So why are we sending in operators instead of scientists or, depending on whether the little grey men have popped out yet, diplomats?"

Bradford tapped on the tablet again, and the screen changed to a street map of Berlin. A cluster of Red dots representing the impacts sites appeared on the map with small a small red circle surrounding the area. "Because we've lost all contact with the area surrounding the impact zones, the traffic cameras aren't accessible, the phone lines aren't working, the same goes for the internet, and no one who was in that area has been seen or heard since 1904 Zulu." He tapped again, causing a larger yellow circle to surround the red one. "Local authorities have evacuated the surrounding area and established a cordon around the area four miles out from the impact site. The official story the Germans are running right now is that a nuclear powered satellite crashed and the area could be radioactive."

 _This keeps getting better and better._ "Alright, so give me the operational details. What role is our team going to be playing in all this?"

Bradford kept tapping on the tablet, causing a helicopter symbol to appear, "The council has requested our assistance in this. Our team is to rendezvous with German Special Forces from the Rapid Response Division and move in to secure the area, locate the civilians, and secure the extraterrestrial material."

The Rapid Response Division was composed of the best of the best of the German military. Every member was a hardened combat veteran with multiple tours of duty under their belt. They were trained extensively to be able to tackle any situation. _Well, almost anything, I doubt they were trained for this._ "Alright, seems sound enough, I want you to take point on tactics with this one. I popped an Ambien on the flight because I thought it would take longer and I've still got about five more hours before it's out of my system."

Bradford nodded, understanding. "Alright, we have a couple of hours before the team reaches German air space. Shall we tour your new command ma'am?"

She nodded, "Alright, and seriously John, cut the rank bullshit when we're in private, it's weird."

…

"And this is mission control, we can direct operations in progress from here, as well as monitor global chatter for possible situations requiring our intervention." Bradford said as they stepped into a huge chamber built directly into the mountain. Dozens of men and women sat, glued to their terminals, around the huge holographic globe in the center. A holographic Skyranger traced a path across the globe to Berlin. One of the technicians looked up from her terminal and turned to them.

"Sir, ma'am, the recon team is nearing the impact site." She spoke with a French accent.

"How far out is Delta squad?" Bradford asked. "And someone get the commander a headset."

"About ten minutes sir." Knight listened as another technician fitted her with headset.

"The recon team is over the impact site, patching us through."

Her German was a little rusty, but Knight was able to get the gist of what was being said as the recon team's pilot came over the comms. They were approaching the crash site, no signs of combat in the area. Then the pilot's voice wavered slightly, they were taking heavy fire from several unidentified sources. The next transmission was hard to understand, the pilot was speaking quickly, fear was evident in his voice. They were going down, the helicopter was heavily damaged, mayday, mayday, they were going down and under sustained heavy fire.

"That was the last transmission sir."

"Alright," Bradford said, maintaining a veneer of the utmost professionalism. "Patch me through to Voodoo Three One."

Bradford gave the squad a similar briefing to the one that he had given her. She noticed that she had been right about the camera and the briefing screen in the Skyranger. Several of the screens in the command center now displayed an interior view of the cargo bay of the Skyranger, and the flat screen was hanging down in front of the squad, held by the arm that attached it to the ceiling. The screens switched to the nose camera of the Skyranger.

"Central, this is Big Sky, we have eyes on the crash site." The camera moved to the crashed helicopter, highlighting it.

"Copy that Voodoo Three One, any sign of activity?" Even from the nose camera, she could tell that the chopper was a burnt out wreck. Whoever or whatever they were dealing with, they were packing some serious firepower.

"Negative Central, nothing's moving down there."

"Okay," Bradford said, "set her down nearby."

The Skyranger landed in an area in the middle of the street, one of the few that was clear of any form of debris. The team exited the Skyranger and fanned out across the street. The screens in the command center switched to the gunsight cameras on the squad's weapons.

"You seeing this Central?" Delta-1's voice came over the comms. The area was a mess, vehicles were overturned, buildings were on fire, there had been some extremely heavy combat in the area before they arrived.

"Copy that Delta squad. Get out of the open and into cover. Whatever hit the recon team could still be out there."

The squad advanced up the street, moving from cover to cover as directed by Bradford. This was an unusual level of micromanagement, but these were unusual circumstances.

"Central, I have movement. Thirty meters north of my positon, medical vehicle." Delta-3 reported after taking cover behind a civilian vehicle.

"Roger, proceed to the next vehicle for a better vantage point."

Delta-3 did as he was ordered, but still couldn't see anything. "Delta-4, go check it out, double time it."

Delta 4 sprinted across the street into cover behind the overturned ambulance. When she turned the corner… "Holy hell."

"What is it Delta-4? Report!"

"Looks like one of the recon team sir." Delta-4 pointed her assault rifle toward the scene, bringing the image into view on her gunsight camera. It was a gruesome sight, a man in military fatigues reached toward her pathetically, a death rattle escaping from his throat. Blood was everywhere, on the man, all over the ground around him, and splayed across the roof of the ambulance. The man was going to die within a minute or two at most. There wasn't even a point to attempting to give him medical attention. "It looks like something…"

"Hilfe…" the voice crackled over the radio. Knight had been active duty military for over a decade, she'd been hit by IEDs, stared down ruthless war criminals, and been in more firefights than she could count. So she considered herself a pretty difficult person to frighten. But that voice coming over the comms scared the ever loving hell out of her. She hid it well, but still twitched ever so slightly.

Even Bradford, who had seen twice as much shit as she had, grimaced at the sound of the voice. "Delta-4, was that your man?"

"Negative sir, that's someone else…"

"Hilfe…"

"Doctor Vahlen, what's he saying?"

A woman she hadn't met yet came over the comms. "He is saying, 'help me.' The transmission is coming from somewhere north of the squad's positon. Based on its strength, probably from inside a structure."

The sound of the voice aside, this gave her a new hope. It was proof that at least one member of the recon team or one of the missing civilians was still alive. It also brought new urgency. From the sound of the voice, whoever it was, they were in dire straits.

"Thank you doctor," Bradford said. "Delta, is there a structure directly north of you?"

"Yes sir," Delta-3 said, aiming his gunsight camera towards a warehouse at the north end of the street.

"Advance and infiltrate, and remember, stay in cover. We have confirmed hostiles in the AO."

Delta-1 advanced to take cover behind an enclosed bus stop. "Central, I got a lot of blood here."

"Roger Delta-1, see where it's coming from."

Delta-1 turned the corner and angled his gunsight camera in front of him. "Central, I think I just found another member of the recon team… or what's left of him." This German commando's fate was even more gruesome than his comrade's. The blood spatter had painted the grey enclosure crimson. The man's stomach had been ripped open and his innards splayed before him.

"This doesn't make sense." Delta-1 said, "He can't have died more than a few minutes ago, but he looks like he's been dead for a week." Knight took a closer look at the image onscreen and saw that he was right. The corpse was in an advanced state of decomposure, even though he shouldn't have even hit room temperature yet.

"Even more perplexing is the cause of death. It appears that he was eviscerated when something burst out of him from the inside." The doctor's voice came over the comms again. A ludicrous thought went through Knight's head, _what the hell is this? Alien?_

"Tell him not to touch that corpse Central," Knight said quietly. "The advanced decomposure is likely the result of a biological or chemical agent.

Bradford nodded, "move to another piece of cover Delta-3. That corpse could be contaminated."

"Sir," Delta-2 said, "I have visual on the object, permission to approach?"

Bradford's scowl deepened, "It's the only cover between you and that building, permission granted."

Delta-2 sprinted towards the object, she couldn't see much from where his gunsight was pointed, but the object gave off an eerie green glow.

"Talk to me soldier," Bradford said, "What are we dealing with?"

"Sir," Delta-3 said, crouched behind the object. "I have no idea what this thing is, but I can confirm that it's no satellite."

"Roger."

"Doctor Vahlen," Knight said over the comms. "Is the squad outfitted with radiation sensors?"

"Yes Commander, but we're not getting anything out of the ordinary from them."

"Alright Delta squad," Bradford said, looking at a screen showing an overhead shot of the street. "You're almost to the building, keep moving."

Delta-4 moved up to a police vehicle in front of the warehouse. "In position sir."

"Delta-1 move up to the window in front of you and get us a visual of the inside."

"In position sir, looks clear." He poked his gunsight camera around the brick wall to give them a view inside. There were no signs of movement within the warehouse.

"Alright, get in there." This was the dicey part, there were very few maneuvers in the field riskier than clearing an unsecured building. Delta-1 burst through the window and rushed into cover behind a set of tarp covered barrels.

"Delta-2, breach the door." Delta-2 sprinted forward and kicked in the door, taking cover behind some crates. He was immediately followed by Delta-3.

Delta-2 popped out of cover and through his gunsight camera, they saw an armed man in military fatigues. He seemed dazed and, most worryingly, was holding an assault rifle in one hand and a fragmentation grenade in the other.

"Hilfe…" The man said, more like a moan than anything else.

"Central, we have eyes on the target," Delta-3 said. "He's armed."

"Copy Delta-3. Okay everyone, get into position nearby, but do not approach." Bradford switched channels, "Doctor Vahlen, can you talk to him? Tell him to drop his weapon."

"I will try," the doctor said. Then she started speaking German, telling the man who they were and to lay down his weapons.

"Hilfe…"

"He appears to be in shock," the doctor concluded. From where she stood, Knight would have to agree, though she felt it couldn't be something that simple. Not on something like this. She shook her head, _Occam's razor, shock is the most likely answer,_ she thought. _Murphy's Law,_ her pessimistic side countered, _if something can go wrong, it will._

"Keep your eyes open people," Bradford said. "I don't like the look of this." Delta squad advanced further into the warehouse, taking up positions behind cover around the man. "Delta-3, move in and disarm the man, carefully."

Delta-3 advanced slowly towards the man and raised a hand to show he was peaceful. As he drew closer though quietly exclaimed, "My god."

Then everything went to hell.

The soldier raised his gun and fired before Delta-3 could react. Everyone spoke at once turning comm chatter into a garbled mess. Then the soldier raised his grenade and blew himself, and Delta-3, up. A second later, some… thing shot Delta-1 in the back and his life signs went flat. It was a fucking ambush. Another one of the things opened fire pinning Delta-4 down in her position. Delta-2 shifted positons and opened fire on the thing, hitting it with a tight burst, and seemingly killing it. Delta-4 moved and fragged another one of the… aliens, before being shot in the back herself by an unseen enemy.

"Delta-2 shift cover and find a position to flank the enemy." Bradford's voice was angry, but he still wasn't yelling. Delta-2 did as he was bidden and the alien came into view for a brief second on his gunsight camera. To her shock, it was exactly what Knight imagined an alien to look like. Small, grey, with huge eyes and spindly limbs. Then Delta-2 opened fire and it was dead.

"Central," Delta-2 said, "I think that's it, it's over."

"Roger that Delta" Bradford said, stepping away from the control panel. "Secure the bodies and head back to the Skyranger for immediate extraction."

"Sir," the French accented technician spoke again, "the computer found something on Delta-1's gunsight camera."

"Bring it up on screen." Bradford said, walking over to the largest screen in the room. Knight followed him over. The image that came up on screen was similar to the one captured on Delta-2 had captured. The main aspects were all the same, but there were some key differences. This alien appeared slightly larger, it's head was definitely bigger, and it gave off an red-orange glow from its eyes and certain areas beneath his skin.

One thing came to mind as she stared at the creature, Knight muttered it under her breath.

"In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again."

 **Alright people, for those of you who have read my stories before, this one will be slightly different in tone than Shadows in the Tunnel or I Think I Like Like You Too. For those of you new to my writing, I'm Jake111, and I hope you stick with me on this.**

 **I will be writing this as I play through my game, but I probably will focus on the stuff happening back at base. I love the missions in XCOM, but writing them would get repetitive as all hell. I am going to try and keep close to the basic story, but I will be putting my own spin on things, adding content and modifying things as I see fit.**

 **Just to give credit where credit is due, I wanted to keep the jump scene as realistic as possible, so I got a lot of that from a Ted talk by Stanley A. McChrystal. It is a great video that I recommend to anyone. I'm going to get a lot of the military aspects of Knight's career from various memoirs by special forces operators I'm reading.**

 **So what do you guys think, should I continue this?**

 **Read and Review people.**


	2. Caesar in her Tent

_The first operation under my new command, and it was a clusterfuck._

Or at least that's what she would have liked to believe as she stared up at the darkened ceiling of her new quarters. After the mission, she and Bradford had gone aside to speak in private. Her first instinct was to find something to do, anything at all. But Bradford had made it clear that there was nothing to do. There wouldn't be any after action reports until the Skyranger returned, the computers needed time to collate data and run through the video the squad had taken. The labs and engineers couldn't do anything until the samples arrived. The best thing she could do was head to her quarters and sleep off the rest of the Ambien. Some days she cursed the fact that Bradford was so good at making sense. Thus she lay in her new bed, somewhere between consciousness and sleep but not quite one or the other, contemplating the operation.

She would like to believe that somewhere along the line, someone had fucked up. That all of those deaths could have been prevented if not for some error. But she knew that wasn't true, she'd seen every step of the operation. It had all been done by the numbers, no question, every member of the squad had done exactly what they were supposed to, and every technician in the command center had acted exactly the way they should have. There wasn't a call Bradford made that she would have done differently. And despite doing everything right, they'd still lost three fourths of the squad.

Knight had checked the personnel jackets of the fallen, every member was a combat veteran with an exemplary record in their nations' militaries. Everything had been done right. All of the soldiers had been the crème de la crème of military excellence if their files were telling the truth. And no outside factors had intervened out of enemy design or sheer bad luck. In her experience, if you had all of these factors and things still went to hell, as badly as they had this time, then there was only one real explanation.

The entire thing had been a set up from the start.

The more she thought about it, the more obvious it became. The… aliens, it would take her a while to get used to calling them that, had attacked, secured the civilian population in the area, then they hunkered down and went dark. That should have rang a dozen different alarm bells and they should have sent in a fucking battalion, not special forces. Then, the aliens waited until the helicopter carrying the German recon team was nice and close to the ground before they opened fire and took them out. And the last member of the recon team, who in hindsight had bait written all over him, was one of the oldest tricks in warfare.

The biggest question was how the aliens had forced the soldier to play for their team. She'd read the recon teams personnel jackets as well. These weren't the kind of men who surrendered. And they definitely weren't the kind of men who could be coerced to act against civilians or fellow operators. They were taught to resist their captors and seize the first opportunity to escape, but knowingly drawing forces from an allied nation into a trap… it was of course possible, but it was extremely unlikely. People like that were weeded out well before they got as far in special ops as this man had.

 _Come on girl,_ Knight thought, _you know the drill for these things. Sleep now, leave hindsight for the after action._ She forced herself to close her eyes and drift off. In what felt like a second, though the clock on her bedside table said had been four hours, she heard a knock at the door. She rolled over and forced herself to sit up and grab the tablet that was on the bedside table. _Thank you clear labels,_ she thought as she tapped an app that brought up the camera outside her door. Bradford stood in front of the door.

She stood up, ignoring the fact that she was in a bra and boy shorts, and went to the door. She did, however, stop and double check the camera to make sure that Bradford was alone. Assured that he was, she opened the door. He held out a cup of coffee for her, her third that day, which she silently accepted and took a long drink from before speaking.

"What do we have?" She asked, turning on her heel and heading for the bathroom. She idly wondered if everyone got a private shower, it would be unheard of in most military organizations, but XCOM clearly wasn't most military organizations. Bradford stepped inside, closing the door, and followed her. He had an oblivious disregard for her state of undress reserved for siblings and those who had spent a year deployed together in a covert special forces compound on the Afghan border that only had outdoor showers. They'd all been prudes about it for the first few weeks, but by the third month she was just one of the guys.

"Delta squad, what's left of them, got back to base an hour ago." Bradford said, leaning back against the wall next to the door to her bathroom. "Delta-2 is working out the after action report with our technicians, comparing what he saw to what we got on the cams. So far everything has pretty well synched up. Doctor Vahlen is examining the corpses of Delta squad and the German Recon Team. The wounds from the… aliens' weapons are inconsistent with anything the science team has ever come across. The weapons appear to have a built-in self-destruct protocol, leaving only fragments for us. Fragments that the engineering team can't make heads or tails of, much less begin reconstructing, so they passed that on to the research team."

"Do we have an in-house psychologist? I want to know Delta-2's psychological state as soon as possible. No disrespect intended to the man, but he watched his entire squad die in front of him, and we can't afford to have anyone going Private Pyle on us right now." She undid her bra and tossed it into a hamper, then slid off her shorts and did the same.

"We do, I arranged an appointment for him." _Good,_ she thought. She'd expected he would have already handled it. Bradford knew how to run a tight unit.

"Alright, did the research team conduct autopsies on the alien corpses yet?" She asked, turning the shower on.

"No, Doctor Vahlen wants to focus the research on one issue at a time to move as quickly as possible. She's prepared three research proposals for your judgement. Doctor Shen also has a prototype he wants your approval for before he puts it into production."

"I'll have her run me through the research proposals. No offence John, but science isn't your strong suit. And I'm assuming Shen is head of the engineering team." When she got the chance, She would really need to sit down with Bradford and get a full briefing on all of the standard procedures.

"Yes, he and his team developed a satellite that we believe will be able to track the movements of the aliens. Speaking of which, I need to speak with you about our satellite deployment strategy, we already have one covering us and the nation our base is in, but we have one more prepped and ready to launch."

"I'll need a full briefing before I make any descisions in regards to the satellites." She said as she washed her hair. Then an incredibly obvious question popped into her head. "This sounds stupid, but where exactly are we?"

She heard Bradford chuckle, "took me a while to ask that too. Bolivia, near the border with Brazil."

That rung a bell, "Weren't you running an op in that area last year? Clearing the region of narcos?"

"Yep, makes you wonder just how many ops this council has ordered."

"We're going to have a long conversation about that very subject over very strong drinks when this is all over." She turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself and walking back out to her closet.

"You're on, when… if we get to that point, I'll buy." She dug through the closet, the duffel that the Men in Black had packed her sat on the floor. To her surprise, several articles of clothing in her size had already been hung up in the closet when she arrived, though thankfully no underwear had been included, they never got the sizes for those right unless you told them. And if they were the kind of people who would break into your home to get your sizes, they weren't the type to ask.

"So what's first?" After a moments consideration, the movie buff in her forced her to choose an all black ensemble consisting of a black Commando sweater with the XCOM insignia on the breast pocket, black cargo pants, and black combat boots.

"It's your call of course, but I'd recommend starting with Doctor Vahlen and the research team." _The biggest question here,_ she thought, _is what the hell am I doing in command if they already had Bradford?_ That question had stuck with her since the operation, but it was a conversation for later.

"Alright," she said, as she looked at herself in the mirror, putting her hair into a ponytail. Satisfied, she turned to Bradford.

"Well, let's go cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war."

 **So what do you think people? I honestly don't care for the way this chapter turned out, I feel like I kind of lost it in the second half. Knight is honestly a harder character to write for than I thought. The biggest issue is that I'm not used to writing military characters, more specifically high ranking military. I want her to be realistic, but I don't want to make her boring.**

 **Either way, Read and Review people**

 **Later.**


	3. Opening the Devil's Toybox

_You are a stupid prideful fool._

This thought went through her head again and again as she stalked through the corridors of the base. _Bradford offered to show you the way to the research labs,_ she thought. _But no, you could find your own way, and besides he had to have more important things to do than show her around again._ If she wasn't around people, she'd be smacking herself in the forehead out of annoyance. She'd seen the research labs in passing on the quick tour Bradford had given her, so she was sure that she would be able to find them again. After all, she could navigate the catacombs of Paris, the jungles of Colombia, and the side streets of Baghdad without issue, military bases were easy by comparison.

 _Or they usually are, at least._ XCOM headquarters wasn't laid out like any of the other underground complexes that she had been in. And, also unlike most military facilities she had been in, there were no signs. Probably a security measure to frustrate any invading force, and from her present state, a damn effective one. The smart thing to do would be to stop one of the people she passed and ask for directions. But, she was aware that one of her flaws was that, at times, she let her pride surpass her intelligence. This was one of those times.

So she trudged on, reflecting on the past ten hours. It was a lot to take in, aliens were real, said real aliens were on earth and hostile. There was a secret global conspiracy dedicated to combatting the alien threat, one that probably had a number of other objectives on their agenda and had been influencing global events for a while. She knew that would probably sound like tin foil hat territory to most people, but this kind of infrastructure wasn't something that was produced overnight, and it especially wasn't created for what was hopefully a very temporary threat.

On their own, neither of these things really surprised her. She had studied space enough to know that the sheer infiniteness of it and, even ignoring the possibility of non-carbon life forms, the millions of earth-like planets made the idea of humanity being the be-all and end-all improbable if not implausible. As for the government conspiracy bit, she'd spent most of her career in covert operations, she'd seen things that would make the average person's blood run cold. She knew about some of the things modern conspiracy theories were based on, hell, she'd been involved in a few of them. No, neither of those things phased her too much, it was the last little detail that was a real kick to the gut.

She was now the one in charge of running the military arm of said secret government conspiracy, and defeating the threat of said hostile, very real, aliens.

 _Well, this is fun, lost in my own fucking base, getting overwhelmed by my current position, haven't had this much fun since high school._ She was this close to giving in to her better judgement when she stumbled upon the mess. Technicians, engineers, soldiers, and… ah scientists filled the room. _That solves that,_ she thought, _just grab a Dr. Pepper and follow one of these guys back to the research labs._ Not recognizing anyone in the mess, and apparently no one recognized her, she stepped into the line.

 _Wow, this really is like high school, except everyone's not staring and wondering whether I need help finding an adult_ , she thought as she grabbed her soda from a convenience store style cooler. A rather attractive blonde woman in a turtle neck stood in front of her, precariously balancing a bottle of orange juice and two granola bars in the crook of her elbow while intently tapping away on a tablet. _That is going to fall,_ she thought, looking at the woman.

And sure enough, a few seconds later, a large man in an engineering uniform bumped into her, knocking the bottle of orange juice and granola bars out of her arm. Knight's arm shot out and she snatched the orange juice out of the air as it fell. The engineer muttered an excuse me and kept walking, apparently oblivious to the displaced items. The woman's eyes never left her tablet as she dropped to a crouch and felt the floor around her for the granola bars.

 _Whatever is on that tablet, I want a look at it._ She watched the woman feel around for a solid minute before taking pity on her. She grabbed the two granola bars off of the floor and tapped the woman on the shoulder. "Excuse me miss, you dropped these." The woman still didn't look up from the tablet, and for the first time, she noticed the woman was muttering under her breath in German. So she tried again, this time speaking slightly louder. "Entschuldigen Sie Fräulein, ließ Sie diese ."

That got her attention, the woman finally looked up and took notice of the world around her. "Oh, pardon me, I wasn't paying attention to where I was." _That's the understatement of the day._ The woman's accent was familiar, a mix of French and German, _probably from the Rhinelands,_ she thought. It took her a second to realize that this was the same woman who had spoken over the comms during the operation.

"Doctor Vahlen, right? I was just on my way to speak with you." She held out the granola bars and the orange juice for the doctor.

"I apologize, I don't think that we've had the chance make the acquaintance." The doctor said as she took the items.

"Lieutenant Colonel Knight, but apparently it's Commander Knight now. We spoke briefly during Operation Devil's Moon." She was about to extend her hand, but stopped when she realized the doctor's hands were full.

"Ah Commander, I apologize, I should have recognized you. You looked different in Egypt." They stepped forward in line. Knight wracked her brain, trying to think of when she had met the doctor. She'd done a lot of work in Egypt over the years, counterterrorism operations, hostage rescues, diplomatic delegations, it was a fairly busy region.

"You'll need to be more specific Doctor, I've spent a lot of time in Egypt." _Most of it doing things the Egyptian government doesn't like._

The doctor looked perplexed, "Two years ago, the Valley of the Kings Standoff, you were part of the team that extracted my colleagues and I, I remember that you were carrying a very large rifle."

She thought for a moment, it sounded familiar… _Oh right, Operation Cursed Grave._ A group of scientists and archaeologists were studying one thing or another in Tut's tomb, then around thirty militant members of the Muslim Brotherhood seized the tomb and took the research team hostage. Knight had been serving as a military attaché at the American embassy, or that had been her cover at least. She'd been attached to Bradford's team. Simple enough operation, she found a good hide and cleared a route for Bradford's team. They moved in and dropped the bad guys, quick, clean, and by the numbers.

The only complication came when two of the terrorists decided to grab a hostage and make a run for it. She'd disguised her hide well, because they ran right past her. They didn't even notice when she stood up, casting aside the camouflage tarp, pulled her sidearm, and put a bullet in each of their heads. Then she secured the hostage. The hostage… she looked at the doctor, imagining her wearing desert gear and her hair up in a ponytail.

"You were the hostage that the terrorists tried to flee with, I apologize doctor, I should have recognized you." They reached the front of the line and swiped their IDs, soldiers and staff weren't charged for food, but they were required to scan their identification cards in order to better keep track of logistics.

"It's not a problem Commander. I'm sure I'm not the only person who owes you their life. But I'm sure you wanted to speak to me about more than just the past." Doctor Vahlen said as they walked out of the mess.

"I wanted to hear what your team has come up with so far." _I really hope she doesn't realize that I'm just following her._

"I was just going over that." Vahlen handed her the tablet which had captivated the doctor's attention. On it were pictures of each of the fallen members of Delta team and the German recon team on autopsy tables. The wounds were… gruesome to say the least. At least Delta-3's wounds were recognizable, his face was a bloody mess from where the German commando had shot him and his body was brutalized by the grenade blast. The others…

"What kind of burns are those? The weapons the aliens were using looked like some kind of concentrated energy weapon, but these wounds aren't cauterized. There's definite dermal corrosion in addition to the burns, and the spread is more like white phosphorous than a laser." She looked up from the tablet with raised eyebrows.

The doctor nodded in agreement. "My team and I are examining residue found in the wounds, but our current theory is that the aliens' weaponry fires some kind of plasma. This raises a vast number of questions, the most obvious being how they were able utilize it at this scale. We will hopefully be able to answer some of these once we've had the chance to examine their weapons more closely."

She scrolled down to the German recon team, "The man Delta-4 found, the cause of death is clear, blood loss from his wounds. I have no idea what could make those lacerations, though. They don't match up with any blade or claws I know of. And I'm not even going to attempt a guess at what happened to the operator Delta-1 found. Some form of evisceration?"

Doctor Vahlen leaned over her shoulder as they walked and tapped a few photos, zooming in on them. _The Doctor has an interesting lack of a sense of personal space,_ she thought. "It was definitely some form of evisceration. What is strange however, is the manner of evisceration. It is exactly as I thought, the trauma to the chest and stomach came from the inside, some kind of growth pushing out and then exploding outward with a level of concussive force."

They finally reached what she assumed were the research labs, the doctor swiped her ID and they stepped inside. Knight hadn't been in too many laboratories, but she had to admit, XCOM had provided their research and development component with a top notch facility.

The doctor never stopped speaking as she turned away from her and put on a lab coat. "There is also a cavity inside the chest where everything has been pushed aside, I believe that this is where the growth originated, though nothing remains. I assume that the aliens removed the growth once it burst out of the soldier, however that is only because nothing matching the description was recovered."

When the doctor turned back to her, Knight handed back the tablet. "Do we have any idea what caused the extremely advanced rate of decomposition in the eviscerated soldier?"

"To an extent," the doctor said, shoving the granola bars in her lab coat's pockets and opening her orange juice. "You were correct in your assumption that the corpse had been contaminated, but we have been unable to directly identify agent responsible. It does seem organic in nature at the very least. The closest comparison that I can draw to something terrestrial would be to the venom used by some species of spider to dissolve the insides of their prey. One unexplained factor that may or may not be connected to the growth is the severe dehydration and lack of nutrients in the soldier."

"Great, so now we have giant spiders involved and Xenomorphs popping out of chests. I am not liking our selection of enemies right now." The doctor looked at her oddly, the joke apparently having gone over her head.

"Xenomorphs? I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with that terminology." The doctor shook her head in confusion.

In any other circumstance, she would have laughed, but the fresh image of an eviscerated soldier put a damper on her sense of humor. "Just a movie reference Doctor, don't worry about it, Central Officer Bradford said that you had some research proposals to run by me."

Vahlen directed her over to a bank of terminals. "With our current resources, tackling these issues one at a time will yield the quickest tangible results. The artifacts recovered during the operation offer three possible fields of research, either into the aliens' weaponry, the materials used in the pods recovered, or into the alien physiology itself."

She considered the options before her. _The weapons have the most obvious practical gain, or the alien materials. If our troops are going to be facing superior firepower, I want the odds evened as quickly as possible. Still,_ she thought, _the biology is likely the most far reaching of the options._ "What course would you suggest Doctor?"

The doctor bit her lip, seeming to consider whether or not to be honest. Knight was starting to get the feeling that people made her uncomfortable. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke with a sudden fire in her voice, "Learning the aliens' physiology is the most critical in moving forward. If we are going to war, then we must understand our enemy, and be able to adapt as they adapt. In order to do this effectively, we need to know what makes these creatures tick."

The abrupt burst of passion from such a seemingly reserved person as the doctor caught her off guard, and pleased her. She liked passion in her colleagues, work was like sex, you could do it, but if you weren't passionate about it, then you couldn't do it well. She'd known many colleagues in the military who viewed a cold and detached outlook as the best way to get through life, particularly in regards to covert operations. It was also a common stereotype of her specialty, the old 'one shot, one kill, no remorse' mantra was true enough, but unlike a lot of her colleagues, she didn't apply it to life off of the battlefield.

"I'm inclined to follow your judgement Doctor, what is your time frame on results?" The doctor clearly tried to hide her relief, she did it rather well at that. However, one did not survive as an intelligence officer for over a decade if she couldn't read people.

"Assuming no major setbacks, I would say anywhere between six to eight days."

 _That is… impressive to say the least._ "Thank you Doctor, we'll speak again soon." With that she turned and headed for the door. She still had to meet with Shen to discuss his prototype, and then she had to meet with Bradford to discuss satellite deployment. And then… then she was going to come back down to the research labs and have a look at one of these aliens in the flesh. She had to abide by one of her favored mottos.

She muttered under her breath as she walked out.

"No phenomenon is a real phenomenon until it is an observed phenomenon."

 **Anyone who reads any of my other stories knows exactly where this is going. To those who haven't, it shall remain cryptic as to what I'm talking about.**

 **This was another hard one to get through the second half, it comes off as slightly dry to me, but it's a conversation that needed to be had. I feel like this story will get easier once I get the housecleaning stuff out of the way, move past the briefings and the early game stuff and get into actual characterization.**

 **Either way, read and review people.**


	4. The Correct Tools

The engineering section of the base was even more impressive than the research labs. There were three separate assembly lines with robotic arms that sat dormant as she stepped into the huge industrial space. Men and women in jumpsuits were spread throughout the room, fiddling with machinery, looking over schematics, and moving crates with forklifts. An older gentleman in a green windbreaker broke off from a group of engineers examining some schematic or another.

"Commander," he said, extending his hand. "I am Doctor Raymond Shen, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well Doctor, Lieutenant Colonel Knight, though I suppose it's Commander Knight now." She gestured towards the assembly floor. "Your facilities are very impressive, but I would expect nothing less from someone of your qualifications."

Doctor Shen seemed surprised, and slightly pleased. "You've heard of me."

She nodded, "I attended a few of your lectures on the evolution of UGVs and their implications on the modern battlefield."

"It is nice to see a combat officer take an interest in the more abstract technological aspects of warfare."

She waved her hand in dismissal, "You never know when a bit of random knowledge will come in handy, besides, being deployed to Colorado is a boring assignment, and you were very forthcoming with technical advice for my thesis on how drones and self-driving cars have forced the shipping industry into the twenty first century and tied it into the tech sector."

Shen's expression turned thoughtful for a moment, then realization dawned on him, "I remember going over that paper, I apologize Commander. I didn't realize that you were A-"

She raised her hand, cutting him off. "Doctor Shen, with all due respect, I have gone to great lengths to keep my professional colleagues unaware of my first name. It's not a matter of respect or rank, I simply find my first name unsuitable for my chosen career. If you would please not mention it to any of our colleagues, I would be very grateful."

Shen looked confused, but nodded, "Alright Commander, allow me to explain the role of my staff and I in the XCOM project." He turned directing her to follow him.

"Our role in this project is varied. Anything they can dream up in the research labs, we can build here." He gestured towards the assembly lines as they walked past them. "Doctor Vahlen recently forwarded some schematics to us, with your approval, we can begin production immediately."

"I'm certain if the good doctor approves of it, I'll approve of it." It was a mix of personal feelings and professional logic, Vahlen seemed incredibly competent and it was highly doubtful that the council would choose anyone other than the best to head up XCOM R&D. It also helped that Knight found her incredibly easy to like.

Shen, however, did not look so sure. "In this case, I have to agree. Though I wouldn't put too much blind faith in my colleague."

She arched an eyebrow. "Do you have problems with Doctor Vahlen?" If there was division among the department heads, she would have to put a stop to it immediately. They were already facing an unknown enemy with superior technology, they needed to present a united front.

Shen shook his head, "I have great respect for my colleague. We simply have different approaches to our professions. She is utterly brilliant, no intelligent person would deny that, but she is very… young, very idealistic. She lacks some of the lessons that experience teaches, such as… when to stop."

"Understandable," she decided to push the lead engineer a little. "The same criticism has been levelled against me by several colleagues."

Shen was unfazed, "I do not mean it as an insult Commander, simply a statement of opinion. Idealism is the greatest asset, as well as the greatest weakness of youth. The same can be said about the caution and cynicism that comes with experience. Every design requires tradeoffs, even humans."

His answer pleased her, she would have lost a great deal of respect for the man if he shied away from his opinions simply because someone was a higher rank. "I agree Doctor, that criticism has been levelled against me several times, and it hasn't always been undeserved."

They arrived at a workbench with multiple screens on the wall in front of it and hanging down on movable arms around it. Sitting in the center of the workbench was a red canister with a handgrip. "This is the prototype developed by the Research team. It emits a mist that relies on nanotechnology, as well as certain stimulants, to heal wounds and combat most of the commonly used weaponized toxins."

 _Impressive,_ she thought, _but I need to see it in action._ She noticed a box cutter on the workbench, simple, the kind you could get from any hardware store. She picked it up and, before Shen could react, made a deep cut down her forearm, from her elbow to her wrist.

"Commander!" Shen exclaimed.

"I'm fine." She said, gritting her teeth. She knew what would happen, but damn it still hurt. She picked up the medikit and squeezed the trigger, spraying a heavy mist on the wound. The results were incredibly impressive, and, if she was honest with herself, slightly unnerving. There was something distinctly discomforting about watching one's own skin knit back together, seemingly of its own volition. Shen handed her a disposable rag to wipe the blood off.

Once she'd cleaned off her arm, she pitched the rag into a nearby trashcan. "This is incredible Doctor, how soon can these be put into production?"

Shen regained his composure, "With your approval, we can begin production immediately."

She looked at her arm, the scar tissue was just beginning to settle, it would completely disappear within a few days. She thought about the images of the plasma burns on the troops killed by the aliens. "Make it so, I want these ready before the next operational deployment." She looked back at Shen. "You said your department filled multiple roles in the project. What are your duties other than manufacturing?"

Shen picked up a tablet similar to Doctor Vahlen's off of the workbench, he tapped it a few times and the screens around the workbench changed to a vertical view of what appeared to be XCOM headquarters. "My team and I are also responsible for maintenance and construction within the base." He pointed towards the top levels, the part of the mountain that XCOM currently occupied. "As you can see, we have some room to grow up here, but if we truly want to expand, then we'll have to dig deeper, which will be more expensive."

He tapped the tablet a few more times, the screen changed to show a list of projects and illustrations under the designation, FOUNDRY. "I also believe that we would benefit from devoting a contingent of my people as well as specialized facilities to upgrading out equipment using existing technology and resources while the research team attempts to decipher the alien technology."

 _Solid idea, we need every advantage we can get._ "You have my authorization, start work on the Foundry as soon as possible. Is there anything else Doctor?"

"Not currently Commander, perhaps once production has begun and the Foundry is up and running, but that should keep my team and I busy for now."

"Alright then, we will speak again soon Doctor." She turned and headed for the door.

"I have to go speak to Officer Bradford about making Orwell spin a little faster in his grave."

 **One more chapter and I can start getting past the first day and into the real story. I have some interesting plans popping into my head while I'm playing XCOM. Also, sorry I'm taking so long on these chapters, but it's finals season and that is a bitch.**

 **I dropped the quote for this chapter, not sure I'm going to try and bring it back. It feels like it's more and more forced with every chapter and I am having difficulty finding appropriate quotes for every chapter.**

 **Either way, Read and Review people.**


	5. Meeting the Bastards

_Some men get the world, others get ex hookers from Arizona._

Right now, it felt like I'd gotten screwed out of both. These aliens had a technological advantage, a tactical advantage, and for all I knew, a numerical advantage. I'd dealt with that sort of scenario before, but then I had other advantages. I'd had surprise on her side, that went to the aliens this time. I'd had intelligence support, knowledge of her enemy. Once again, this advantage went to the aliens. The only advantage I had was the possibility that the aliens would underestimate them.

I leaned against the wall of the corridor, I needed to stop having these moments, this was the fourth time today that I'd let my mind wander down that particular dark corridor. Then it hit me, just like it always did, the transition was seamless. One second I was in the hallway, the next I was standing in that phone booth. It was dark, I was the woman in the suit again. She was speaking into the phone, but I couldn't understand what she was saying.

There was a glare to the side, and the woman looked up to see two bright orbs of light some ways off. The woman ignored it, and went back to her conversation. Then there was a massive crash and the woman looked up again, just in time to see the lights had slammed into a car, sending it rolling. The orbs, now clearly visible as headlights, whirled around as the car they belonged to went into a tailspin.

She moved to get out of the way, but wasn't fast enough. The car hit her, pinning her against the metal of the phone booth. And then suddenly I wasn't seeing from the woman's perspective, I was flying through the night air, to where the rolled car lay on its side. I flew straight into the little four year old clutching a stuffed dragon and screaming for her father. I flew right into my younger self.

And then it was over, and I was back in the hallway, leaning against the wall. "Fuck," I shook my head trying to clear my mind. I hadn't had a waking attack in more than a year. I hadn't had the dreams in a few months. "Fuck," I said again as I pushed myself off the wall and started walking again. I really needed another tour of this place, one that wasn't impaired by Ambien.

I passed a door marked, training area, in the large block letters military organizations tended towards, perfect.

I slid my ID through the card reader and stepped inside.

Two things surprised me at that moment, one of them shouldn't have. The first was the sheer size of the facility. It was a massive cavern, two football fields if I had to hazard a guess, divided in two, a firing range to the right, a space for physical training on the left. The firing range ran the length of the room with a rangemaster's station for checking weapons in and out on the wall near me and on the opposite end was another tunnel with a sign above it reading, SIMULATIONS. Something to investigate later, mock-ups most likely, but considering who I was dealing with, it could be something more exotic. The other side held a multilevel gym, the bottom floor held all of the standard gym equipment surrounding a CQB arena, the floor above that held a glass floored running track that encircled the exercise area. Against the wall opposite to the door was a tunnel marked, POOL, and a door on the leftmost wall was labelled, LOCKER/SAUNA/LOUNGE.

This level of spending on leisure facilities was something that one could find for professional sports teams, not military units. This level of construction was also not something that happens in a day or week or even a month. Our benefactors had been establishing this facility for quite some time.

The second thing that struck me was how busy the facilities were. Almost every station on the range was occupied, odd thought, there wasn't nearly as much noise as there should have been. The physical side was less occupied, but there were two men sparring in the ring with two onlookers waiting their turn while others worked at weight stations and a few ran laps on the track.

"Damn posh setup, ain't it." The voice was deep, masculine, southern English accent, and right fucking behind me.

"I very nearly dislocated your jaw." I wasn't joking, there are very, very, few people capable of sneaking up on me.

"Easy girly, no need to lose the plot, I'm just takin' the piss out of you." My newfound stalker stepped around to face me. He was taller than me, probably eight inches at six two, if my math was right, and it usually was, very large, I'd eyeball him at somewhere between 160 and 190 pounds. He seemed older too, having a few more lines on his face and a bit more gray in his hair than Bradford or the other soldiers that I'd seen. He looked to be in his upper fifties or lower sixties, ancient by military standards, particularly if he was British enlisted, and he did not sound like an officer.

From his conduct, it wasn't hard to tell he didn't know who I was, or he just didn't give much of a shit. If he was here and he was as old as he looked, there was something that kept him from being put out to pasture. Still, no need to make enemies on the first day of school, I extended my hand, "Knight, US army special forces."

He accepted the hand shake with a firm grip, none of the bone crushing nonsense you got from fresher blood. "Thomas Holmes, British SAS, call me Church."

"Bit old for this aren't you?" I offered a small half smile to take any sting out of it.

"Got to give you kids some adult supervision, come on, I'll introduce you to some of the lads." He turned and gestured for me to follow him towards the physical training side and the CQB ring. "MacLeish, MacGill, Tsang, Taylor, listen up lads, this is Knight, she's new blood and she's a bloody yank, this is Echo squad on the books, but we call it Bastard squad." He pointed to each as he named them, MacGill and MacLeish were the two that had been in the ring, both had fiery red hair and rugby player builds, Tseng was a small, but athletic looking, Asian woman. Taylor was a tall blonde man with a distinctly surfer vibe to him

"Interesting choice of name," there was most likely a story behind it.

MacLeish stepped out of the ring, picking a water bottle up off the floor and taking a quick sip, "It's not what you think, the sword, not Church."

"Shut your trap you bloody jock," Church growled, but he was smiling.

"Or what, you'll gum me to death gramps?" He shook his head and laughed as he turned to me, "Name's Duncan MacLeish, or Excalibur, SAS by way of the Royal Marines" He jerked a thumb back at the other redhead, "That's the other Duncan, call him Caliban, real chatterbox that one" MacGill nodded, but didn't say anything. "He came up with me. Yo, Frosty, Surfer Boy, you're up."

It was the short Asian this time, "Yuki Tsang, callsign Snowflake" she cut a glare at the first of the Duncans, "Joint Task Force 2, through the Royal Canadian Air Force." There was something about her eyes, it wasn't necessarily cold per se, but there was something clinical there, calculating.

The Surfer stepped up, a towel draped over his neck, "Name's Noah Taylor, call me Dart Special Air Service Regiment. Forgive my mates, what are you coming out of?"

All from Commonwealth countries, interesting, I'd have to meet more than one squad before I jumped to any conclusions though. "United States special ops, Intelligence officer officially."

"And unofficially, you're a friend of the Family, that the make of things?" Church was eyeing me differently now, no doubt I wasn't the first black operator he'd met.

"About right," considering where we were and what we were dealing with, I'd say we were past the little secrets at this point.

"Like our new commander then, all the blethering is saying she's some kind of black bag killer, clever one too, by the scuttlebutt." MacLeish definitely didn't know who I was, "Heard they call her the Reaper, wrote the notice for a couple of hundred blokes, not all of 'em on the level. She ran that business in Qom all on her own."

The exact number of confirmed kills for me was 234, a hundred and twenty of those were done using a sniper rifle, sixty using medium to short range firearms, twenty five using knives and swords, twelve using explosives, thirteen were faked accidents, four with my bare hands. Ninety were in the same eight month period.

That may seem like a lot, and it is, but there are two reasons confirmed kills per person in militaries are so low, one is that they usually operate in groups and it is often hard to distinguish who exactly killed who, that's why snipers rank so high, it's easy for us to keep track. The other is that in warfare, the goal of an army is rarely to kill enemy combatants, it's almost always a step in that goal, the overall objective is to force the enemy to retreat or surrender. For the past seven years, the end goal of almost every operation I've been a part of has been assassination of high value targets.

"She headed up the task force for the Qom thing and provided sniper support for the main team hitting the enrichment facility, she wasn't alone. I was on that op, it was multinational." All not technically lies.

"Yeah, well our guys in the new VAJA are saying they talk about her like she's some kind of bogeywoman, say she personally put a bullet in the Grand Ayatollah's head." That part was true, but only because I was the best sniper available at the time. It was part of a long period of heavy instability in the Mideast following the collapse of Iran and the domino effects in Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Turkmenistan.

Before I could respond alarms began to blare and a voice emerged from hidden speakers. "ECHO TEAM, REPORT TO HANGER BAY ALPHA, ECHO TEAM TO HANGAR BAY ALPHA. X-RAY ACTIVITY DETECTED, REPEAT, X-RAY ACTIVITY DETECTED."

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked up to listen. The members of Echo team had turned solemn as tombstones, as far as they knew, this was a death sentence.

Church looked at me, "Well, guess it's our turn into the breach, nice meeting you lass." He looked at his team, "Alright, you heard em' Bastards, time to show those ugly alien bastards our hearts, and show them theirs."

The other members of the team didn't seem quite enthused about the prospect, but they managed a decent "Yes Sir!"

As they said their goodbyes and filed out, Bradford's voice came through my earpiece, "Commander we need you in Mission Control."

I tapped the button to speak. "I'm on my way."

This would not be like last time.

 **…**

 **Pulling another one out of the old files, for new readers sorry about the sudden perspective change, but I wrote the original chapters a long time ago and in that time I've switched from third person to mostly first person perspectives.**

 **Either way R &R people.**


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